“No, it ain’t the end—­not even yet.  Maybe it ought to be, but it ain’t.  There’s a little more of it.

“A fortni’t later I took a couple of days off and went up to Wapatomac to visit the Van Wedderburns, same as I’d promised.  Their ‘cottage’ was pretty nigh big enough for a hotel, and was so grand that I, even if I did have on my Sunday frills, was ’most ashamed to ring the doorbell.

“But I did ring it, and the feller that opened the door was big and solemn and fine lookin’ and had side whiskers.  Only this time he wore a tail coat with brass buttons on it.

“How do you do, Mr. Wingate?’ says he.  Step right in, sir, if you please.  Mr. and Mrs. Van Wedderburn are out in the auto, but they’ll be back shortly, and very glad to see you, sir, I’m sure.  Let me take your grip and hat.  Step right into the reception room and wait, if you please, sir.  Perhaps,’ he says, and there was a twinkle in his port eye, though the rest of his face was sober as the front door of a church, ‘perhaps,’ says he, ’you might wish to speak with my wife a moment.  I’ll take the liberty of sendin’ her to you, sir.’

“So, as I sat on the gunwale of a blue and gold chair, tryin’ to settle whether I was really crazy or only just dreamin’, in bounces Effie, rigged up in a servant’s cap and apron.  She looked polite and demure, but I could see she was just bubblin’ with the joy of the whole bus’ness.

“‘Effie,’ says I, ‘Effie, what—­what in the world—?’

“She giggled.  ‘Yup,’ she says, ’I’m chambermaid here and they treat me fine.  Thank you very much for gettin’ me the situation.’

“’But—­but them doin’s the other day?  That automobile—­and them silks and satins—­and—?’

“’Mr. Van Wedderburn lent ’em to me,’ she said, ‘him an’ his wife.  And he lent us the auto and the shofer, too.  I told him about my troubles at the Old Home House and he thought ’twould be a great joke for me to travel back there like a lady.  He’s awful fond of a joke—­Mr. Van Wedderburn is.’

“‘But that man?’ I gasps.  ‘Your husband?  That’s what you said he was.’

“‘Yes,’ says she, ’he is.  We’ve been married ’most six months now.  My prophecy’s all come true.  And didn’t I rub it in on that Susannah Debs and her scamp of a Sim?  Ho! ho!’

“She clapped her hands and pretty nigh danced a jig, she was so tickled.

“‘But is he a Butler?’ I asks.

“‘Yup,’ she nods, with another giggle.  ’He’s A butler, though his name’s Jenkins; and a butler’s high rank—­higher than chambermaid, anyhow.  You see, Mr. Wingate,’ she adds, ’’twas all my fault.  When that Oriental Seer man at the show said I was to marry a butler, I forgot to ask him whether you spelt it with a big B or a little one.’”

The unexpected manner in which Effie’s pet prophecy had been fulfilled amused Captain Sol immensely.  He laughed so heartily that Issy McKay looked in at the door with an expression of alarm on his face.  The depot master had laughed little during the past few days, and Issy was surprised.